


Pieces

by OkLumi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Hinted Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, One Shot, Orchestra, Piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 19:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18971155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkLumi/pseuds/OkLumi
Summary: Draco plays the piano. He doesn't do much else. But then suddenly, he wants to.





	Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little thing I wrote. Who knows, perhaps they get together?  
> Hope you enjoy :)

Draco was standing behind the curtains, waiting.  
Just waiting.  
Perhaps he should have warmed up. Most performers he knew of did. And everyone kept telling him to. But he didn’t; he simply stood there, waiting for the minutes to pass by.  
At eight o’clock precisely, he was signalled to enter the stage. After one last straightening of his suit, he did.  
He was met with a too loud, though not overwhelmingly so, applause. He didn’t like the welcoming applauses. The audience hadn’t even heard him play yet, why should they clap?  
He took his sweet time, and for a minute he stood still while simply looking out at the crowd of people. Waiting for the applause to die out.  
He was testing their patience, he knew. But as the audiences grew larger and larger, his intimidation by them diminished accordingly, and he often waited several moments before starting to play.  
At last he nodded at the crowd and walked over to his piano, which was waiting for him in solitary. He sat down gracefully, straightened his perfectly straight tie.  
His hands rested in his lap for one, two, three whole seconds, then he lifted them and started playing.  
He didn’t usually think much when he played. All that mattered was his hands, his fingers, over the black and white keys.  
Chopin Piano Concerto No. 1 Op.11. One of his all-time favourites. He knew it as well as he knew himself.  
The stage was empty apart from him - he didn’t play with an orchestra. It was just him and his piano. Perhaps some of the musicality of the piece was lost, but at the same time, the music was amplified, the performance more intense.  
He was alone. Like he’d always been.  
After the third and final movement was over, he rose to face the crowd. He bowed deeply, once, and when he lifted his head, the crowd was standing.  
At the very front row stood Potter. He met Draco’s eyes, held his gaze until he turned and walked off stage.  
*  
Draco didn’t warm up. The orchestra did, but he just stood there, waiting.  
When it was time, they entered the stage together, though Draco entered first. It was the first time he’d ever perform with an orchestra, and simultaneously the last.  
He hadn’t told anyone. Not one soul. After all, who was there to tell? He was alone.  
He liked to think someone in the audience would have figured it out. Some of them came to his every concert, he knew that.  
He would play Grieg. Piano Concerto in A minor Op.16. His very favourite piece. Only once before had he played it, and it had been his first ever performance. And now he would play it again, as his last performance.  
He looked out at the audience, for once enjoying the welcoming applause. This time, he felt like he’d earned it, to a degree. He saw Potter at the front row again, and the moment their eyes met, he knew Potter knew.  
Oh well.  
He allowed himself to smile at Potter, feeling free and braver than ever. The smile back made his whole career worth it.  
He walked over to his piano, sat down, and straightened his perfectly straight tie. It was weird doing it for the last time.  
He didn’t think much, just let his hands do their thing, let them dance over the keys how they wanted to. His usually stiff body swayed ever so slightly, and he smiled.  
He was warming up to life, it felt like, and now he could see why they all told him to do just that.  
The orchestra was great. Perhaps he should play with others more often. And suddenly, the piece was finished.  
The whole audience rose from their seats, clapping and whistling like crazy.  
Draco didn’t mind. They’d earned it, after all.  
He met Potter’s eyes, seeing a million different things in them.  
Then he left the stage, not once looking back.

Potter was waiting for him outside in the rain.


End file.
